


I'm Your Carnal Flower, I'm Your Bloody Rose

by chaiteasan



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Banter, Choking, Drinking, F/M, Fruit play - Freeform, Julian actually cooks... kinda, Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, semi-rough sex, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 21:32:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18186002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaiteasan/pseuds/chaiteasan
Summary: Julian and MC go on a picnic in the palace’s garden. After some deliberately assorted treats, Julian’s plan backfires and is in need to cool off some of the heat.MC is described with cis female anatomy in mind, but no gendered pronouns are used.





	I'm Your Carnal Flower, I'm Your Bloody Rose

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing the last chapters of my fanfic yet I’m weak and gave into temptation to write for the dramatic slippery boy. Anyways, brief mention of blood, and inspiration came from Froot by Marina.
> 
> Feedback of any kind is welcome and appreciated! Enjoy!

“Did I just see you peek, love?”

 

You catch his grey eyes and that sly grin curving his slender features before you quickly lower your lids to a close.

 

“Tch, where’d you get that idea?” You respond with a jesting grin of your own, feeling the gentle tug of your hand clasped in his as you blindly follow. Despite sneaking a peek for a brief few seconds, you see the two of you are outside of the palace. The veranda? You’re not sure. However, the soft sounds of wind rustling through leaves all around you, the slight swish of the grass beneath you and Julian’s feet, the sun’s rays warming your skin as the evening sky, and the birds whistling their songs from above tell you you guessed right.

 

“My dear, it’s called a surprise for a reason.” He laughs. “Besides, we’re almost there.” He reassures you, the playfulness coloring his smooth voice.

 

“And where is ‘there’?” You ask, hoping for some semblance of mercy from the man. He usually does give in, you reason. Though you can’t help but to feel a little guilty from the numerous occasions that you displayed signs of an unforgiving nature of sorts… especially in the privacy of the bedroom. However, as much as you feel guilty about it, you can’t stop the image of his flushed face from your mind.

 

To your surprise, Julian is actually quiet, tight-lipped as ever, though you can feel his giddiness by the slight tremor in his hands. How odd.

 

Before you know it, he guides you to a spot and holds you in place, gloved hands perched firmly on your upper arms as he turns you a certain way. There’s rustling at your side once more, and suddenly his body is nowhere near you. 

 

“Viola!” He beams with pride, taking that as a signal to open your eyes. His arms are outstretched in a flourish and his grin is nothing short of charming. You don’t know what you’re expecting, but it certainly isn’t this.

 

Speechless, your gaze roves from Julian and over the scene in awe, taking in each detail he presumably planned. A lovely blanket spread atop the grass, a basket full of enticing snacks while two plates of… pasta?... sit attractively beside a bottle of wine, a bouquet of roses, and a few candles. But that isn’t all. The garden is thriving with beautiful flowers and the fountain is streaming its endless cascade. The sun is slowly lowering by the minute as the sky is bathed in orange. A part of you doesn’t believe this is real, until you realize the absence of mutterings and gossip between the guards. They aren’t in the vicinity like they usually are.

 

You wonder how he, a fugitive doctor under suspicion of murdering the Count (even though you know for a fact he wouldn’t hurt a fly and he was proven not guilty a while ago), managed to convince the Countess to lend him this area for the evening, but that’s a story for another time. For now, you indulge on the fact that Julian created an image such as this. It’s gorgeous. Superb. 

 

“Is it not to your liking, love?” Julian questions as his hands drop limply to his sides and his usually phenomenal posture goes slack before almost shyly edging towards your side. His face is one of worry, taking your silence as disapproval.

 

“No, no, no!” You say hastily, your hands grasping at his in reassurance. “I love it! It’s just nobody has ever done something like this for me… or at least from what I can remember, that is.” You start mumbling, voice growing softer and softer before giving him a sheepish smile. Julian returns it with a tender smirk and soft eyes. “Thank you, this is really sweet.” You say, standing on the tips of your toes to press a gentle kiss on his lips.

 

When you pull away, you can see the tinge of pink coloring his cheeks, but you can’t dwell on it too long. “Come,” he replies as he tugs at your hand, leading you towards the blanket and resolutely settling down on the smooth fabric.

 

Everything looks wonderful. From the scenery to the food, it looks exquisite. With a curious eye, you can’t help but to stray on the pasta Julian is twisting on his fork. 

 

“Try this.” He offers the fork out to you and without any hesitation, though you narrow your eyes the slightest bit in suspicion, you take the pasta into your mouth, chewing the creamy morsels and savoring it. Wow, it’s shockingly delicious. And given Julian’s history, you have always doubted his care towards food. Or lack thereof, that is.

 

“I don’t think I’ve had this before. What is it?” You ask, voice muffled by the food.

 

Julian lets out a small chuckle to himself and swirls the noodles around the utensil once again. “Lobster capellini with leek-tarragon cream sauce. I had it a few times when I traveled in Prakra, it’s absolutely divine.”

 

With a slow nod, you can’t help but to take in this side of the doctor. Sweet, indulgent, romantic. And, of course, there was the usual flare for the dramatics sprinkled in with this date of sorts. Just merely looking around the garden is enough proof of his penchant for drama. You take another bite of the pasta, from your plate this time, and watch Julian uncork the bottle of wine with an abrupt pop. “I’m impressed, Ilya. But let me guess,” you pause for a second, allowing a smirk to line your lips with a tilt of your head as he begins pouring the dark red liquid into the two glasses settling delicately at the corner of your plates. “This is all Mazelinka’s work, isn’t it?”

 

“Would you believe me if I said it was all me?” He grins devilishly at you, those pearly canines flashing you the tiniest bit.

 

Restlessly, you shift under his gaze, a flash of heat sparking underneath your skin. “Tch, that’s like believing you can shut up for once.” You jest, bringing the glass of wine to your lips.

 

Feigning a pained expression, Julian’s gloved hand rests against his chest, right above his heart, and tilts his head to the side with furrowed brows. “You wound me, love.”

 

You snort at that. “Oh please, I know you like it.” You quip with half lidded eyes.

 

He coughs into his hand, clearing his throat, before looking away sheepishly. A heated flush deepens the faint pink into a healthy crimson and you feel a familiar stirring low in your abdomen. “W-well, yes. But in any case, it wasn’t all Mazelinka’s doing. She helped me, saying one thing or another about how I can’t cook and whatnot. So she took the liberty to help me with everything.” He shrugs with a wave of dismissal.

 

“Hmm, well she has a point.” You mumble with a pondering finger tapping at your chin. But when you catch sight of Julian, he’s giving you a deadpan look as he gingerly sips at his wine, lidded eyes growing narrower. “I’m joking!” You say with a laugh, and soon enough you can see a soft smile curving his handsome features at the mere thought of you in a mirthful state. When the giggles die down, and the only sound between you two are the harsh taps of a fork against fine china, you sneak an endearing glance at him. “On a serious note, it tastes amazing. I’m proud of you.”

 

He murmurs his gratitude after you press another soft kiss against his lips, although not without a tint of pink staining his flesh.

 

Minutes pass and the conversation bleeds into another and another and not long after, he has haphazardly discarded his eyepatch, gloves, boots and coat at the edge of the blanket, lounging luxuriously across the fabric with a gleam of genuine interest in his eyes. The moon replaces the sun and the sky is bathed in darkness, stars splayed before your eyes. You fumble about, kicking off your shoes onto the dewy grass and lie comfortably on your stomach as Julian recounts stories of Nevivon with Portia and sailing the high tides with pirates.

 

A part of you smiles at the fact that there’s a twinkle of awe in his grey eyes. And you can almost see the little, adventurous boy he was before this mess with the Red Plague and the murder of Count Lucio. You want to see that side of him, to see him full of adventure first-hand. Maybe in the future. Maybe when all this is over and done with that you and he will have a life of leisure, traveling, exploring, having fun. You owe that to yourself, and he to himself after all these years of death.

 

You don’t get to think too much into it because he’s vaguely gesturing towards delicately woven basket at your side, requesting to bring out the snacks he packed, but not without a suspicious grin and a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. 

 

You’re curious, but it won’t do asking him about it. You’ll undoubtedly get some teasing remark prodded back at you before a smile curves your mouth.

 

Bewildered, and slightly aroused, you lean into the basket and rifle past the napkins and extra utensils, finding a dish of chocolate dipped strawberries. You never pegged him to favor sweets, especially fruits covered in sweets, but you’re not complaining in the least. You peel back the thin plastic covering the fruits and make a show of choosing one with an arch of your brow, biting into it and savoring the juiciness of the strawberry. Delicious. Everything is delicious. Are these Mazelinka’s work as well, or were they bought from the merchants?

 

Conversation flows comfortably after that as you and Julian eat at the sweet strawberries, but judging by the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze dips down the slightest bit at every bite you take, you can sense his longing for something suggestive to pop up. Given the way he hasn’t voiced anything of that nature, you think he’s attempting to be the perfect gentleman. If only for Mazelinka’s sake after the many times she had to hear you two through the thin walls of her home.

 

However, you know well enough it won’t last long. Especially taking into consideration exactly who you’re with.

 

Instead of indulging him, you stray on certain words of your story about spending a few hours in Milady’s private chambers, pausing at the right moments when the piece of fruit is grazing your bottom lip.

 

As expected, he’s taking the bait. Gladly. He usually does, at any rate.

 

Pink colors his cheeks and the tips of his ears, slowly creeping further down his neck when you sit up, leaning towards his languid form. Grey orbs follow your every movement as you close the distance between the two of you, offering him the chocolate covered fruit pinched between your thumb and index finger.

 

He inches forward, eyes still locked on your own, and bites into the sweet fruit, feeling his lips graze your fingers when he does. Another spark of heat graces your nerves from the inadvertent contact and pleasantly thrums throughout your body. You bite your lip, knowing full well he’s enjoying the compromising position you’re in, though you aren’t complaining.

 

Story completely forgotten, Julian blindly reaches for the last piece of the fruit, following suit with your offering. You take a bite from the strawberry, making sure to brush your lips against his long, bare digits just as he did to you and almost immediately that healthy flush returns. Plucking the stem from his grip, you take the liberty to grasp his wrist in a firm yet gentle hold and softly lap at the melted chocolate covering the pads of his fingertips. 

 

Dazed eyes filled with lust follows your every move. A slight pinch in his brows, an almost unpunishable bite to his bottom lip, a harsh intake of oxygen. He takes your advances in stride.

 

Once you lick his fingers clean of the chocolate, releasing his digit with an audible pop, and settle back onto your knees, you hear a low whine from him, before you take a ginger sip of the last remnants of your wine. You train your triumphant yet challenging gaze to stray on his fierce ones, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride at the amount of arousal you give him with little contact. 

 

Julian lets out a soft chuckle before you finish the dark liquid, cheeks aflame. Is it the wine or is it what’s transpiring before your eyes? Or maybe a combination of both? You’re not sure, but you hear him say a low, husky, “Darling,” as he cups his cheek, watching you appreciatively as though you’re stripping the last sliver of clothing covering your body. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

 

“Who said I’m playing nice?” You retort suggestively. By the way his pupils dilate under the moon’s silver shine, you feel a shiver make its way up your spine despite it being the middle of summer.

 

Under his intense scrutiny, you take it upon yourself to reach for the basket one last time, peeking past the crumpled plastic and napkins and pulling out the last bowl. Cherries.

 

Gods. You almost want to shake your head at the insinuations you know he undoubtedly planted. Wine, lobster, chocolate covered strawberries…  _ cherries _ .

 

A wicked idea comes to mind… or not-so-wicked considering he practically offered you all the factors in pleasing him. You know for a fact Julian relishes the idea of you toying with him. Back to when you first ‘searched’ his body for any of your stolen goods, to bathing with him in Milady’s chambers or showing him some magic in the tower. Already, you know this’ll be entertaining.

 

Grey orbs fixate on the bright red fruits, waiting patiently for what you have in mind, as you pluck them from the bowl and bring them to your mouth, tasting its sweet juices. With a soft moan of approval, you tilt your head back the slightest bit in an exaggerated notion that those mere fruits were giving you the pleasure you want from him.

 

You plop the stem and seed out onto the discarded dish of strawberry stems and choose another perfect cherry. Julian’s gaze flickers to the bowl for a few moments before he reaches for one. You two eat the fruits in relative silence - and at times of Julian’s voice fills the air of stories of his young sister - tiptoeing around the obvious spark between you both, until you put your plan into action.

 

The cherries are long gone, just as the moon is shining high in the night sky, not a single cloud in sight, nor a sound from the guards or the ghost of a goat. Fireflies emerge from the bushes and dot the garden, though your eyes can tear away from his darkened grey ones.

 

Edging closer to his artfully languid form, you pick at a stem and pop it into your mouth, deftly tying the short stub with your tongue as Julian watches attentively. Almost immediately, the thick tension that lingered in the air returns in waves. A shiver races down your spine at the intrigued way he’s gazing at your lips, and soon enough, when you pull the tied stem from your mouth.

 

“Impressive.” He mumbles with a sly grin. Before you can form a reply, he’s leaning forward - his chin brushing the soft material of your loose shirt - to follow your lead, picking a discarded stem and popping it past mischievous lips. You watch in fascination, a challenging gleam in your eyes is reflected in his and you can’t help but to entertain the idea of what exactly that mouth can do. However, you already have some idea with your previous trysts with him. He pulls the knotted stem out from his mouth, that infuriatingly handsome smirk still lining his features. “Checkmate.”

 

Goosebumps prickle the surface of your body as your eyes flicker to the wet stub and back to his face. “Oh, so this is a game now?” You question, biting the corner of your lip to stifle the excitement coursing through your veins.

 

This close, you can see his gaze nonchalantly wander the secluded area you two are in before meeting yours once more, blindly placing the tied stem back onto the dish and returning his hand to tuck itself at his cheek. “I wouldn’t call it a game if you aren’t inclined to take up the challenge, darling.” He quips. You know it’s only a means to provoke you, but you can’t help but to indulge in this.

 

With a wicked smile, you pick another stem and pop it into your mouth again, tying the stub while maintaining the eye contact.

 

Seconds tick by, that dazed look in his eyes return and when you pull out a double knotted stem, it’s all you can do to stop yourself from bursting out in a fit of laughter from Julian’s worked up expression. Who would think tying a cherry stem would get him this riled up? He must have planned this considering he packed the food for this picnic, though maybe it wasn’t supposed to pan out this way. But who are you kidding, this is Julian you’re talking about. He loves to meddle with anything that will get an uncontrollable reaction from you and both of your hearts to explode.

 

His glazed orbs stray on the stem pinched between your fingers before slowly roving upwards and stopping at your lips. A healthy flush colors his cheeks and ears red. You return the stem onto the dish and immediately tend to Julian.

 

“Are you okay? You look a bit feverish.” You mimic a concerned expression and press the back of your hand to his forehead, his cheeks, then the side of his neck. He sighs the slightest bit at the contact, though it was barely audible even to your own ears.

 

He tears his gaze away from you for a second before meeting it once more, a shaky chuckle rumbling in his throat. “I - ah - I’m fine, love. Just the wine and summer breeze and whatnot.” Julian lies, gesturing nowhere in particular.

 

It’s blatantly obvious he’s lying, and you know exactly what is making his skin flush and hot to the touch judging by the fire burning in those grey orbs. With a slight curve to the corner of your lips and half-lidded eyes, you hear him audibly swallow. “Uh huh, I don’t think I believe you.” You crawl closer to his front, lethargically closer, until he’s leaning back slightly and your lips are grazing his own.

 

“Y-you don’t have to.” He stammers restlessly, his breath mingling with your own as a finger of his plays with the stray tendrils framing your face lovingly and your own trail down the exposed portion of his chest, feeling the soft hairs brush the pad of your digit.

 

“So, it wouldn’t happen to be about my  _ deft _ tongue-tying skills, would it?” You breathe, allowing the tip of your tongue to ghost over his lips, the blush across his face deepens at your teasings.

 

You feel a chuckle bubbling in your throat, threatening to spill at his eagerness, but it’s all stopped short as he weaves his long fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck and tugs you into a kiss.

 

It’s down to a moment of weakness. The playfulness in his body is long gone, though you can’t stop yourself from continuing this mischievous streak of yours. After all, you have a strong inkling he planned for this to happen. You delicately, yet firmly, press the palm of your hand at the warm surface of his chest, moving down, down, down, as you tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss. You part his unbound shirt, relishing the feel of the soft material against the backs of your hands as you move further south until he shrugs it off in near vexation. Over bunched fabric to stop just above the growing bulge between his long legs.

 

You’re bold, encouraged, egged on by the fact that he’s easily complying to your every move.

 

His lips falter in its rhythm over yours and you feel, more than hear, the soft moan of approval spill enticingly from him. A subtle thrumming tingles underneath your skin and low in your abdomen. You had a feeling this would happen - his yielding, risque nature, that is - yet you can’t stop an amused smile from forming on your mouth.

 

A sharp, quickly bitten off cry rumbles from his lips between your kisses once you begin moving your hand just above his groin in familiar, sensual movements. After the numerous times of doing this with him, you know how he loves to be touched. Slow and sensual until his heart starts beating to the rhythm of your hand. His eyes squeeze shut as though he were in pain. His hips jerk slowly into your grasp, forcing your fingers to slide down the hardening bulge. All of this is nothing new, but you still feel a spark of newfound excitement just as you had when you had done this first with him.

 

Restlessly, Julian props himself up to meet your lips once more, giving into the delicious temptation of volatile kisses, before trailing down to the smooth column of your neck. You sigh at that, feeling his soft lips latch onto the sensitive patch of skin behind your ear. With each teasing, sucking kiss he leaves in his wake, you pause in your ministrations and guide his hand to your hip, shifting closer until you’re flush against his chest, limbs tangling together.

 

He’s sucking at the side of your neck, teeth grazing the warm skin as you feel your pulse jump along with your steadily increasing frenzied nerves. It’s only when he’s salving your marred skin that you shoot your hand from his hardened cock to lace your fingers into his auburn hair, tugging back the slightest bit to elicit some tension.

 

As you increase the tension between him and his strands, you nearly release a chuckle of amusement at the man pressed against your front, knowing full well he has a penchant for pain you haven’t seen with anyone else. Is it due to his marking? Or is it due to the masochist in him? You’re not sure, given that both are very plausible, though a part of you goes with the latter.

 

At your command, Julian releases your neck easily, watching you through a half-lidded, lustful gaze. Yet despite his composed appearance, his pounding pulse says otherwise.

 

Another smirk lines your lips as you gaze upon his pale features, fixating on the the heated flush at his cheeks in contrast to his usual cool flesh. And with one glance, you can tell he’s weak, spent, surrendering to your blazing touch just as he always had done in the past. Images of different ways in rewarding his efforts pass behind your glossy eyes. Instead, you stoop to tease him until he’s begging, whimpering, waiting for your command.

 

Before he can say some snarky or dramatic statement - undoubtedly about your pause or gazing at perfection (him) - you lean down to mimic the attention he gave you just moments ago. You loosen your grip on auburn strands - not without the slightest, straying tugs - and trail your hand over the curve of his shoulder, over the sharp ridges of his collar bone, and down to his chest once again as you press teasing kisses across his jaw and down the side of his neck. 

 

His gaze is hazy, directed towards the moon and trees, savoring your attention before a sharp exhale spills past his lips when you pin him roughly to the ground. Only a few moments of shock crosses his face before it’s immediately replaced with a roguish smirk and a cock of his brow.

 

You straddle his narrow hips, your lips never wavering over his warm, soft skin. Large, trembling hands skim up your body tentatively, as though he’s waiting for your permission. A sound bubbles in your throat in response and soon enough you can feel his warm flesh parting your loose shirt. You pull away from his neck for a moment, shrugging off the offending material to join his discarded coat before returning to the attention he so desperately craved.

 

Moans and soft sighs are filling the clearing in the garden and you can’t help but to indulge in dragging your short nails down his front. His fingers trace the edges of your tight pants as you suck at his soft skin, marring his skin red in preparation for the blooming purple and blue flowers by the end of this tryst.

 

His breathing is labored, his fingers teasingly roving back to the front, nearly meeting the button as if you don’t have an idea of what he’ll do next. Sensing his next move, you grasp his wrists, cease your kisses, and pin them at the sides of his head. In the heat of the moment, you hear a hiss, a wince crossing his features in brief pain.

 

A small cut, blood beading at the wound and immediately your heart stops when you realize he’s pushing away at the bouquet of roses, a bloodied thorn at the side. An apology is halfway out of your throat when you glance at the back of his hand, nearly reaching out to tend to his injury until you catch sight of the wily grin curving his mouth. With a single glance back at the wound, it’s already healed, nothing that indicates he had a thorn pierced in his skin.

 

But before he can do anything more, you press deep kisses down his chest, cautiously releasing his wrists and continuing where you left off. Slowly, you trail a fascinated finger over the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen, watching his muscles twitch at your teasing. Your body is overheated, the warm temperatures of these recent summer nights don’t help to your cause, though you pay little heed to it.

 

This is what you want. This is what he wants. Every opportunity to lose yourselves in the uncontrollable rhythm you constantly set and the cries of desperation are something you never seem to miss. The mere feeling of his body against yours is what has you grazing your teeth at the surface of his abdomen and has Julian releasing a strangled sound of approval.

 

Lower and lower, you offer playful ministrations to his body, feeling the intensifying tremors wracking his nerves, until your lower lip meets rough cloth. You work at the damned thing around his waist, slight vexation making your brow twitch as you hastily undo the clasps of his trousers. You tug at his pants and undergarments, and stray hungry eyes over his cock that springs free from its confines.

 

Your heart is pounding, throbbing in time to the stirring you feel low in your abdomen and settling as a hot, wet need that he can only alleviate. 

 

Blood rushes in your ears and you bend low, lips grazing the mushroom head of his cock, hot breath curling over his hardened flesh, that you nearly miss his husky voice. “Darling, that can wait another time.” He says, propped on his elbows as he watches you intently.

 

A part of you thinks he’s toying with you, but with one glance into those grey eyes, you can tell that he’s serious. Dilated pupils and fire burns in those orbs that it’s hard to deny the fact that he wants to see stars with you. Fast. You pinch your lower lip between your teeth, tilting your head, thinking. And because your head is still spinning at the numerous ideas of rewarding him for this date, you swallow over your dry throat, cheeks warmed at what exactly is near your flesh. “Oh, so when we get to Mazelinka’s?” You whisper, pressing lingering kisses down the length of his cock. “...Or Portia’s cottage?” You ask, allowing the tip of your tongue to teasingly drag up the spiraling vein. “...Or even the palace?” You groan before closing your lips around the tip of his cock.

 

Julian lets out a shaky sigh, head falling back in pleasure. “Gods, yes.” He responds, though his eyes return to you and a spark of something indecipherable glimmer in them. “Come here.” He says, his large hand reaching for your smaller one and pulling you gently to him.

 

You yield for a moment before you twist your wrist out of his grasp and pin him roughly to the ground, another sound of pleasure bubbling in his throat at the enticing force as you slowly crawl over him, and stop just as your lips skim his own. “You’re not in the position to give me orders, Ilya. However, I’ll let it slide… for now.”

 

The playfulness subsides almost immediately, and all that’s left is desperation in his touch. It’s as if he can’t endure your teasing - much less the verbal sparring - any longer. His hands wander over your exposed torso, and a part of you wants to stop him, to be rough with him, but you can’t deny that his long-fingered touch feels all too good on your overheated skin. You allow him to touch you like this even though you know well enough he relishes the idea of you taking authority.

 

After toying with him on this date, you settle with the idea that that can wait another few hours. 

 

His hips are subtly rocking against your clothed cunt and you grind your hips slowly in response, taking control of the steady pace you know he doesn’t crave for. Your lips contradict the lazy back and forth motions of your hips, moving frantically against one another as the need of awaiting pleasure begins to sear your frenzied nerves. Tongues mingling in a sensual dance, you feel the vibrations of his answering moans against your lips.

 

A satisfied hum unconsciously rumbles past your parted lips as your hips hasten the slightest bit, your fervent kisses faltering. The tension is rising, the friction nearly palpable, that it takes all your strength to pull away from him to unbutton your pants, sliding them off along with your undergarments while he does the same, though his eyes never leave you. There’s something predatory in his gaze, though that can be chalked up to the reflection you see of yourself in his glossy eyes. 

 

With your hips straddling his, you bite your lower lip in an attempt to stifle a pleasured moan while Julian releases one at the rub of his cock against your clit. Despite your restless movements, he complies without question, all too gladly to your command. He’s still - despite the heaving movement of his chest - as you buck your hips lightly against his. Regardless of the near graze of flesh on flesh, your spine arches and your toes curl into the blanket at the sides of his legs. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, some semblance of decency should have been running in circles in your mind, yet that is all thrown out the window.

 

Instead, all you can focus on is the awaiting pleasure at the near end of this date. Of the dazed and flushed look on Julian’s face. Of the definite trembling, spent mess you two will be. Of the obvious proof of his satisfaction slowly trickling down the inside of your thigh.

 

You even entertain the idea of crawling further north, settling over that wicked mouth of his as you wait for the first brush of a tentative yet firm muscle lapping at your cunt. A heedy moan rumbles in your throat as you tip your head back, the mere thought of his talented tongue doing such wonderful things to you once again leaves you nearly breathless.

 

Past trysts with him flash before closed lids. Julian bent down between your thighs, legs propped lazily up at his shoulders, your hands fisted in a tight grip in his auburn locks as sweat beads at his forehead and lust burns in his gaze. Given how much he can’t shut up, you were wonderfully satisfied to know that mouth of his is good at something other than talking.

 

A part of you is very tempted, but you refrain and save that for later in the night. For now, you want him, and he wants you. 

 

Fascination courses through you - along with the intensifying thrumming - when you catch sight of the submissive look in his grey eyes, waiting eagerly for your next move. Your breathing hitches, feeling the raw authority you hold over him with intrigue.

 

Yielding, you rock your hips back and forth over his arousal, offering you both a jolt of pleasure with each thrusting movement of your pelvis. With hands pinning Julian down at his chest, you allow your lips to part at the delicious friction, eyes fixated on his lithe body as you feel the delightful pounding of his heart at your fingertips.

 

Julian hisses when you shift perfectly in your grinding movements, nearly witnessing his easily deterred willpower crumbling before your eyes all over again. Though that’s to say that willpower of his was still intact after all your ministrations. You sense he wants to be buried inside you, wedged past slick folds as you control his every movement.

 

Sex against sex, you can’t be bothered to stop the rolling rhythm between you two, gradually increasing the pace of your hips. Sparks of heat courses through you in waves, feeling it flowing into him with every upward motion of your pelvis. Sinful images cross your mind as you add pressure to Julian’s chest. And despite it all, you long to have some cloth strong enough to bind his wrists together. Something, anything, that’ll have him begging for more. Maybe when you and he are enclosed in a room? Or preferrably out of the Countess’s garden? You don’t stray on the topic too long, and frankly, you don’t care enough to pursue the thought with a mind so clouded and fixated on one thing.

 

His fingers tighten their grasp on your hips and pulls you out of your reverie. With one glance into his eyes, you hold some pity for the man as you grind your hips against his just right, just enough for Julian to dig short nails into your skin with patience evidently running thin.

 

Even though you want to draw this out longer, you can’t help but to internally agree with him.

 

You lift your hips, grasping at his shaft to align him with your core before feeling the familiar heat at his tip. He’s too far gone to protest, simply watching you through sultry eyes as you slowly slide onto him. The feeling of your body opening up to him, to accommodate him has the breath catching in your throat. You’re accustomed to the stretching and stinging of feminine muscles, although what captivates you is his lips that part in a pleasured gasp.

 

Hearing any sound that comes from him is always a treat.

 

When your hips sink down to his base, you can feel his tip hitting a spot that sends sparks flaring throughout your body. He fills you completely yet it does nothing to satiate the burning hunger that threatens to eat you up from the inside out. And judging by the looks of the man pinned beneath you, you can only presume he’s feeling the same way, if not even more so.

 

All you can focus on is the heat and the corresponding thrills that spark underneath your skin, the feel of sweat slicked skin at your temples and his chest, and the soft murmurs filling the warm air.

 

You raise your hips up and down tantalizingly slow - despite knowing full well he wants you to hasten the speed - though the feel of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt produces nothing but soft groans low in his throat. The mixture of blazing heat pressed at the junction between your legs and the air surrounding you feel superb. Hazy, drowsy, as if you had too much wine despite it being just enough to tingle through your system. You let out a shaky breath each time your body engulfs him, moaning deliciously as he stretches you, fills you. Grey eyes crack open, clouded and at times lose focus when you rake short nails down his chest.

 

Again and again, you roll your pelvis to an unvoiced rhythm, your pace speeding up in accordance to his low groans and the inadvertent guidance of his hands at the swell of your hips. Julian urges you on, encouraging you to move faster given the tremor of excitement in your hands. You want to stop him, to pin his hands back to the bunching blanket beneath him yet it’s too much of a chore when ecstasy is nearly in your grasp.

 

Contrary to your unspoken demand, Julian shifts his hips along with yours in order for him to bury himself fully into you. Your mouth immediately falls open in an inarticulate moan as you feel his cock sink even deeper. That moan spirals into a high-pitched cry when he uses the hands at your hips to pull you down as he keenly thrusts his own pelvis upward.

 

Curses spill from his lips as you move faster, harder, taking the pace to ungodly heights. You pull away from him, leaning forward to press one hand against his chiseled chest while the other clasps around his neck. After all the times you’ve done this together, you know full well he revels in the peaked ecstasy.

 

Your hair spills from the ties in a messy curtain of wavy tangles as your lips graze his, a devilish smile curving the corners of his mouth at your disintegrating resistance to hold authority over him. You know you’re playing with fire, though he makes no indication to take your place above him.

 

Hard thrust after hard thrust, they are getting progressively powerful. You can’t think straight, you can’t for the life of you focus on anything but his harsh thrusts, the lewd sounds of your coupling, the uncontrollable rhythm you created, but dear Lucio does it feel exquisite. You want to slow down before you drown in the overwhelming force behind each thrust, but you can’t seem to do more than mindlessly cry unintelligible sounds into the open air with him. You want it. He wants it. It’s all too much. The same emotions and sensations come flooding back from every coupling you shared with Julian.

 

You squeeze at his throat harder, feeling a vibration, a rumbling high-pitched whine of excitement against your hand. His hands move you more erratically, his head tipping back against the hem of the blanket and the dewy grass as you growl your pleasure.

 

With each desperate grind of your hips, Julian lifts his pelvis while his hands push you downward with increasing force, your impassioned cries mingling with his deeper, raspier moans and reverent utterances of how tight you are and how good you feel. You had intended to take charge of him, to dominate him fully just as you had no qualms in the past of doing so, but it seems that the lust you both feel grew into a monster that you can’t control. The one in charge now is your mutual passion, powering the smooth undulations of toned muscles and sweat-slicked skin. 

 

You glance down at him through a hazy gaze, those grey orbs burning hotly as a pleasurable grimace etches itself on his handsome features. It’s all too much.

 

Julian’s fingers dig at your hips, undoubtedly leaving little crescent moons in his trace, and you gladly continue the hastening pace. Flesh slaps against flesh, you squeeze your eyes shut as the feeling of peaked pleasure shakes your core, spiralling through your lower half and making you gasp out sounds so much louder than you should lest the Countess’s guards come running over, fully expecting a crime scene to occur.

 

You gasp his name, brows furrowed, mouth agape, arching against him, feeling your muscles clamp around him like a vice, driving what little oxygen was left from Julian’s lungs as sparks of gratification shoots up his spine in delicious pulsations, writhing. He mutters a curse as you loosen your grip around his neck before moaning your name, giving in to the satisfaction as your body milks the release from him, pouring his hot seed into you as you flex and flutter around his cock until every drop of his desire has been spent.

 

You collapse onto him, your sweaty body tangles with his. You’re both trembling as he loosely wraps his arms around you, his heart pounding in unison with yours and both panting aloud as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. A part of you always relishes witnessing the raw and vulnerable moment from the man beneath you. It’s a far cry from his usual dramatic composure you’re so fond of, yet pleasure courses through your veins, reveling in the fact that he’s pressing tender kisses to your temple, stray strands sticking to your heated skin.

 

Warmth and fuzziness tingles throughout your body that you barely move - as if you wanted to in the first place. And gradually, the shivers you both feel die down, breathing evening out to relative normalcy, shifting against him as he slips out with a soft sound at the back of his throat. You give a contented hum and snuggle into him, pressing lazy kisses to the sharp edge of his jaw and cheek while the subtle feeling of his hot seed seeps out of your core.

 

The air around you is light. Considerably different from the thick, musky scent of sex lingering in an enclosed room, although this time, the mess of a picnic is strewn about. Your lips roam his skin, pressing warm kisses anywhere your lips can reach, the sweet sensation making his eyelids heavy in response.

 

You pull away, hovering above him with a healthy flush lighting your skin as his fingertips slowly wander down the column of your spine. 

 

“I love you.” You whisper with certainty, nearly cracking an amused smile at his oddly endearing behavior.

 

No matter the situation, you giggle at the easy feat of acquiring that crimson tint to color his cheeks. You hear him swallow nervously at the sudden attention and quickly he cracks a beguiling smile. Julian winds his long fingers into your unbound hair, pulling you into a long kiss that has his thumb twitching the slightest bit against the small of your back. “I love you, too.” He breathes against your lips, before tugging you down to him once more as you feel your heart beating to match his.

  
  



End file.
